


beyond hell there's heaven

by Colorkiller



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, GIVE ME MORE, i couldn't hang on to it any longer, i don't really know what to actually tag this as but, salty business, we're out here, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colorkiller/pseuds/Colorkiller
Summary: Hope can forgive almost everyone, except for one person, a woman who just seems to get under her skin, live rent free in her head, and enjoys playing the villain.Will Hope ever swallow her pride?
Relationships: Blake/Hope
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	beyond hell there's heaven

**Author's Note:**

> this is my submission for the monthly prompt competition from [r/LITGFanFiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/LITGFanFiction/comments/la3nq1/prompt_comp_5/) on reddit. 
> 
> and what a ride it has been to write this. I hope you all enjoy, feel free to yell at me in the comments. >:)
> 
> huge shout out to Sarah for not only beta'ing this but for keeping my secret safe.

Hope had no problem with forgiveness. She forgave Ryan for kissing Noah, she’d even forgiven Priya. The one person she struggled to forgive was Blake. Where Ryan had been apologetic (and even though she’d ended up with Noah after the show ended, Hope couldn’t hate her for it), and Priya had been remorseful, Blake had been defiant and bold. 

Ever since Noah had brought her back, Hope hadn’t liked her. She’d blatantly refused to interact with her, and Blake hadn’t hidden her disdain for Hope, either. 

Ryan had been her closest friend in the villa, and outside of the villa, they still talked. Once Hope got past the fact that Ryan and Noah simply meshed better, she realized she cherished the friendship more than she had been hurt by the break up. She kept her distance from Priya, but Blake was a different story. 

As soon as they caught eyes across the party, Hope felt her skin crawl. Blake was dressed to the nines, sky high heels, a gorgeous, silky, rose gold dress clung to her body, and her hair was piled atop her head. Hope turned away, searching for Ryan, or Chelsea, anyone to talk to so that she could continue avoiding Blake. 

“Vodka soda, please,” Hope heard the sickly sweet voice and knew it was too late. She was there, beside her at the bar, and there was no turning back now. “Oh,” Blake said, turning and giving Hope an up and down look. “Interesting outfit.” 

Hope inhaled deeply, searching deep within herself for calm. Everything about Blake screamed ‘Fake! Fake! Fake!’ to Hope, and all she wanted to do was grab the woman by the neck and smash her against a wall repeatedly. She shut her eyes as she took another cleansing breath. 

“It’s nice to see you, Blake,” Hope said, trying to smile. Instead, she looked like she was baring her teeth. Blake sneered, curling her lip just slightly. 

“I don’t think nice is the word I would use.” 

“Don’t you dare make a scene,” Hope hissed, and Blake tossed her hair back and laughed. The sound grated on every last one of Hope’s nerves, and she couldn’t hide her cringe.

“A scene? Why would  _ I  _ make a scene?” Blake asked innocently, and Hope scoffed. 

“It seems like it’s your brand,” Hope said offhandedly, palming her martini. Blake leaned over the bar, waving the bartender over. 

“What is taking so long to make a  _ vodka soda? _ ” Blake demanded, and the bartender waved a hand at the small crowd around the bar. Hope rolled her eyes at how utterly repugnant she found Blake, and turned and disappeared into the crowd before the glossy headed brunette could say another word to her. 

“I can’t stand her,” Hope whisper-shouted into Ryan’s ear later that night. 

“Who?” 

“Blake!” 

“Oh, babe!” Ryan grabbed Hope’s hand and dragged her outside, away from the pounding bass that kept them from hearing each other properly. They sat together on a bench, and Hope groaned. 

“She’s just so--reprehensible.” 

“That’s a ten dollar word,” Ryan said with a short laugh. “I understand, but don’t you think you should try to get on with her? Just a little?” 

“Ryan.” Hope fixed her friend with a glare. “I just can’t. Maybe if she didn’t have such a hideous personality--” 

“She’s not that bad.” 

“Seriously, Ryan? She dragged you through the mud at the final party, and you’re really going to defend her?” Hope narrowed her eyes, shaking her head in confusion. “That makes no sense.” 

“It makes sense for her to be mad at me, at us, you know? I doubt she had much of a choice in the way she came into the villa. I sympathize even if I don’t like the way she spoke to us.” 

“I--you do have a point. I can’t do it, though, Ryan, I just can’t. She makes my skin crawl.” 

“Then just avoid her. I can try and run interference.” 

“That’s not my style,” Hope sighed, shaking her head slowly. “I just needed to vent about it, that’s all.” 

“Hm.” Ryan fixed Hope with a curious look, but chose not to press it. “I don’t know about you, but I need another drink.” 

“You read my damn mind.” 

  
  


Hope found herself separated from Ryan at the bar, and pushed elbow to elbow with Blake. She tried to hide her displeasure, her distaste at being up close to this loathsome creature, but her face must have told the story. 

“Oh, it’s you again,” Blake said, wrinkling her nose. To Hope, the words spilled out of lips painted garishly bright, and her honey golden eyes crinkled with an almost evil glint as she turned slowly, opening her shoulders. 

“It’s a small venue, what did you expect?” Hope snapped, and the corners of Blake’s mouth turned up mirthfully. She plucked a shot glass from the bar, tilting the liquid down her throat without touching it to her lips. Hope wanted to rip the mole above her lips, lips that spilled such vicious words, off with force. Tremors coursed through her forearms until she steadied her hands on the bar. 

“You know,” Blake leaned in, setting the shot glass back on the bar emphatically. “It’s kind of fun being the villain.” 

“What?” Hope blinked, confusion twisting her mouth until she couldn’t speak. Blake’s sly smile only widened as she tapped perfectly manicured fingernails on the bar.  _ Tap, tap, tap.  _ The simple sound was amplified even in the din of the crowded bar, and Hope wanted to snap those fingers in half. 

“Yeah,” Blake’s lips brushed against Hope’s ear (and Hope prayed she wouldn’t leave lipstick stains on her skin) as she whispered. “I can get away with anything I want since everyone expects me to be a scourge on this earth.” Blake picked up a drink, winked at the bartender, and sashayed away. 

And the pit of fury only grew in Hope’s stomach as her hands trembled and she waited for her drink. 

  
  


\--

Hope didn’t make a habit of going out to clubs by her lonesome. She definitely didn’t make a habit of going out unless she was dressed to the nines, her makeup flawless, highlighter accentuating every beautiful plane of her face. Wednesday afternoon was no different.

Fresh from the gym, her eyebrows on point, her casual wear stunning even if it was just that, casual, she stepped out onto the street, jostling her gym bag and spinning her car keys in her fingers. She didn’t make a habit of showing up to parties alone, but she would make an exception for Chelsea’s get togethers. 

Hope tossed the bag in her backseat, driving herself to the shops. Chelsea was throwing a party that weekend, a house party to show off her new digs, and naturally, Hope was invited. And, also naturally, Hope needed to find something new to wear. Something that would remind the world that Hope Biala was single and ready for love, or at least a nice lay. 

She stepped into the shop, her eyes drawn to the racks adorned with glorious rows of clothing. She thumbed through a rack, humming to herself as she pulled outfits off and hung them on her shoulder. 

“Red’s not your color, babes,” a voice drifted in from behind her, and Hope stiffened as she recognized it. She would recognize that voice, the one that cut through her every time, anywhere. Hope turned slowly, her eyes narrowed. 

“And why would I take advice from  _ you? _ ” 

“I don’t expect you to listen to me, but it won’t stop me from speaking out on potential fashion disasters,” Blake said, and though her voice was saccharine sweet, Hope detected the venom and malice lingering just beneath the surface. 

“How can you know that red isn’t my color if you haven’t seen me in red?” Hope demanded, and Blake barked out a harsh laugh. 

“It’s obvious. It’s the undertone of your skin, you would suit cooler tones. Blues, greens. But suit yourself.” Blake shrugged and turned to another rack, thumbing a tacky gold number much like the one she’d worn in the villa. Hope snatched a couple more outfits before turning to the dressing rooms. 

She hated to admit that Blake was right, but when she pulled on the red dress, it diminished her. It became the focal point and made her look washed out, somehow. Hope scowled in the mirror, and decided that a sage green two piece was the best option. 

Hope wanted to slap the smug, all knowing smile that Blake fixed her with as Hope hung everything but the sage green on the  _ didn’t work out  _ rack. 

“Oh, shut up,” Hope muttered, seething at Blake’s passing titters. 

  
  


\--

Blake wasn’t one for half-assed gestures. Half-hearted, heart not in it, those phrases simply weren’t in her vocabulary. If she was going to fall in love, she was going to do it ass over teakettle, and if she was going to have an enemy, they were going to be an archenemy. 

Blake relished the fact that every time she stepped into a room where Hope was, the beautiful future CEO cringed away and became visibly uncomfortable. It never failed. Blake lived for it, and even though she knew, deep down, that she didn’t dislike Hope, not even a little bit, it really was  _ fun _ to play the villain. Not one soul expected her to take the higher ground (so when she did it was even more impressive and she was showered with praise), or to even be a particularly decent person. 

She always dressed impeccably, even if she tended to go a little over the top. Her hair was always perfectly placed, her nails always done, her makeup flawless. She had gleaned forgiveness from Ryan (which if Blake was being honest, she understood that woman’s annoyance) but not Hope. Hope, who forgave anyone so long as they promised they’d still be friends; Hope, who didn’t care that her man was a two timing, conniving weasel--

Blake couldn’t believe that of all the people, she was the one who didn’t deserve to be forgiven. If she could forgive Noah for his many transgressions, why couldn’t she forgive Blake for the simple sin of being successful in getting into the villa? 

What did it matter, anyway? Blake wondered why the thought had struck her, why she so suddenly craved Hope’s acceptance, or at least a thank you or an ‘I’m sorry, I was wrong about you.” 

Blake sighed, tightening her jacket around herself as the rain picked up. She shouldn’t care about what Hope, her  _ archenemy, _ thought about her, but she couldn’t stop herself from craving acceptance. All she wanted was for someone to look at her and say, “Blake belongs here.” 

She ran into Hope in the street and wondered why they ended up crossing paths constantly in a place big enough to hide them both comfortably. 

“Oh, good morning, Hope!” Blake exclaimed cheerily, and Hope rolled her eyes. There was no act for her to drop, that was reserved for the parties, for those times when the paparazzi might be hiding in the shadows, ready to expose the former islanders for all the secrets they held. Even if they insisted they had no secrets. 

Blake found it amazing what they could dig up (and frankly she wasn’t bothered, she knew exactly what dirt on her there was), and she knew how to play it off without making it seem awful. 

Hope was obviously seething, and Blake smiled innocently. “What brings you out today?” 

“I’m running errands.” 

“Let me tag along,” Blake said it without thinking, without realizing what she’d just done. There was a sadistic gleam in Hope’s eyes when she said yes. 

“Why not?” And at first, both were content to walk along silently. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Oh,” Hope paused, glancing at Blake, “I’m going to get my hair done. It should only take about four hours.” 

“ _ Four hours? _ ” 

“Maybe six,” Hope chirped, and Blake tried not to let it be obvious she was seething, that she would do anything to back out of this. It was too late, she’d already committed, and she would see this thing through. 

“Maybe they can do something about your eyebrows,” Blake said offhandedly. 

_ Maybe they can do something about your attitude.  _ Hope seethed internally, but tried not to let it show. “You don’t have to go with me,” Hope said, and Blake shrugged. 

“I already said I would. How rude would it be for me to back out?” She laughed softly, and the sound set Hope’s skin ablaze with quiet fury. 

“If you insist.” 

And, of course, Blake insisted. She insisted on helping Hope pick out a hairstyle (“No, I’m not going to pick the ugliest one”), she insisted on picking a color scheme for her makeover, and when it was all said and done, Hope was furious because she looked  _ good. _ And it made absolutely no sense.

“Why would you help me?” Hope asked when they were on the street. “I thought you hated me.” 

Blake simply shrugged and began walking off. She had things to do, after all. “I’ll see you at Chelsea’s,” she called out over her shoulder. 

Hope debated with herself then if it was worth it to even make an appearance. Of course, she had assumed Blake would make an appearance, but having the confirmation had her feeling flushed and angry. She pulled her phone out, thinking about calling Chelsea and cancelling, when a text came through. 

_ Babes I can’t WAIT to see you this weekend!!!!!  _

Even through a text, Chelsea’s excitement was contagious, and Hope considered that maybe, just maybe, this time, she and Blake could get along. She kneaded her temples, continuing on her way. 

  
  


\--

Hope stepped into the party wearing the sage green number, her hair, nails, and skin all perfect. Her heels clicked on the floor as she sidled up to the minibar where Lottie was making drinks. The Aussie goth’s eyes widened but she quickly hid her surprise in a smile. 

“Can I make you something?” She asked, and Hope tapped her cheek in thought as she scanned the room. She had to operate on the assumption that Blake was already in the house, perched somewhere looking heavenly. Funny, since she was such a demon. 

“Hope!” Lottie snapped her fingers to get the woman’s attention, and she blinked. 

“Oh, sorry, babes. Make me something strong. I’m not picky.” 

“Ooh, you’re really going for it tonight,” Lottie said, turning to start making the drink. She handed it to Hope, who took a sip and made a face. 

“Thanks, Lottie, it’s perfect.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

Hope wandered the house with no real direction, stopping to chat with Chelsea. 

“Babe! I am  _ so _ glad you made it!” Chelsea wrapped her in a hug, careful not to spill her drink. “I’ve missed you so much!” 

“I saw you at the last party, Chels.” 

“That was a year ago!” Chelsea laughed, and Hope frowned, struck by disbelief. It was hard to believe she’d been harboring a grudge for more than a year, but if she was being honest, Blake had done nothing to alleviate that. 

“Wow, the time flies, doesn’t it?” Hope mused, and Chelsea giggled. 

“I’ve got to give you the tour! I just finally got this place the way I wanted it,” Chelsea said, and Hope nodded, following her through perfectly decorated rooms filled with a lot of different shades of pink. Even if it wasn’t Hope’s style, she had to admit that Chelsea had a knack for this stuff. 

“And the best part, the pool and hot tub in the garden!” Chelsea slid the door open, but as soon as Hope stepped out, her eyes were drawn to Blake, who was arranged on a lounger, wearing a rose gold mini dress. She was speaking with Lucas, but they both looked bored, as though they were waiting for a train. 

Blake turned at the sound of the door opening, and a sly smile ghosted on her lips before she turned back to Lucas. Hope felt the familiar rush of anger, the heat in her cheeks, the tightening in her throat--

“I think Ryan just got here!” Chelsea bubbled, and Hope smiled for the distraction. 

“I definitely need to chat to her.” 

Chelsea and Hope walked back through the house, greeting Ryan as she made her way to the minibar. 

“Ry!” Hope cried, and Ryan folded her friend into an embrace. “No Noah?” She frowned, and Ryan laughed nervously. 

“I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, what with--” 

“Babe, I’m fine.” Hope picked up Ryan’s hand to search for the ring. “Oh my god, the boy has taste, Ryan!” 

“Oh, Hope,” Ryan sighed, blinking tears back. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you, and for forgiving me--” 

“It’s all in the past, let’s not rehash this,” Hope said, trading out her empty glass for a fresh drink. 

“I’ve got to go check out Chelsea’s pool,” Ryan said, and Chelsea beamed from Hope’s shoulder. 

“Babe, you are going to love it! Hope, are you coming?” 

Hope frowned, trying to think up an excuse, but really, she had none. Not even a bathroom trip could save her at this point. She nodded and followed the others, and Ryan exclaimed happily when she saw the pool. “You’re doing alright for yourself, babe!” She giggled, and Hope took a swig of her drink before settling herself on a lounger next to the pool. 

She felt a presence beside her and stiffened, as she knew immediately who it must be. Blake didn’t speak for a while, and Hope finally turned to look at her. 

“Sick of Lucas already?” Hope asked, and Blake rolled her eyes, but still said nothing. “What, have you suddenly decided to take on a vow of silence? What a great day for the rest of the world if so.” 

“You don’t have to be such a self righteous bitch, you know,” Blake said suddenly, studying her nails so that Hope couldn’t get a good read on her expression. “You know, I’m the only one you haven’t forgiven, and the way I see it, I’ve done the least wrong.” 

“You’re joking, right?” Hope snorted, but when Blake fixed her with a searching look, she realized the brunette was serious. “You know, if you keep playing the villain, everyone will just think you  _ are  _ the villain. You don’t get to treat people the way you do and get away with it,” Hope seethed, and Blake’s eyes widened. 

“What about you? You dipped from this well of forgiveness for not only Priya and Noah, but for Ryan, the girl who stole your man. All I did was get my ticket into the villa, which if you hadn’t noticed, didn’t last all that long.” 

“You were downright nasty to Ryan the whole time, did you think I wouldn’t notice? And to me, as well, for that matter,” Hope said calmly, trying desperately to ignore the white hot fury boiling just below the surface. “I don’t owe you anything, Blake.” 

“I guess not,” Blake said, fixing a blank stare on the lounger in front of her for a long moment. And Hope, for just a moment, felt the strangest flicker of sympathy. It was quickly swallowed whole by her hatred for the glossy headed brunette, and she shook her head as if to clear it. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, Blake,” Hope said, her eyes narrowed, her nails tapping on the arm of the lounger. “I’m literally just trying to live my life, you know? And you always come in with these snide, backhanded compliments. Honestly, why don’t you just fuck off, yeah?” Hope jumped up, turning to leave, but Blake caught her by the wrist. 

“Don’t go,” Blake said, so quietly that at first Hope thought she’d imagined the pleading in the other woman’s voice. She turned slowly back to Blake, expecting to see anger in those gold eyes, or hatred, or anything but a bowed head, eyes boring holes into the ground. Hope yanked her arm out of Blake’s grip, and the brunette looked at her passively. 

“What do you want, Blake?” Hope hissed, and Blake sighed softly, shaking her head slowly. 

“Nevermind.” 

  
  


\--

Hope sat in the kitchen, listening to Henrik argue with Bobby about the best way to prepare mushrooms. 

“You’ve got to forage them, they just taste better that way, Bobs,” Henrik said, and Hope checked out of the conversation. She slinked away to the minibar, grabbing a drink and settling in somewhere else, she wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t stop thinking of the strange look in Blake’s eyes, the defeated slump of her shoulders, the way her voice sounded. 

“Hope, babe, what’s the matter?” Ryan asked, and Hope just shrugged. 

“I don’t know, really. Maybe I’m just tired.”  _ Or maybe I’m worried about Blake. _ Hope couldn’t admit to that. She’d been so vehemently opposed to anything Blake for so long that it would be an affront to her pride to back down now. Or, would it? Hope considered that maybe her friends were the understanding type, and if she suddenly forgave Blake, it would be accepted, smiled upon. 

“I think there’s a spare bedroom if you need a lie down,” Ryan suggested, and Hope took a drink, shaking her head. 

“No, I’ve got some business to take care of.” 

\--

Hope found Blake standing next to the pool, chatting idly with Jakub. Hope found a lounger to sink into, where she could watch them quietly. She didn’t want to interrupt, but Blake caught sight of her and pressed a hand to Jakub’s arm before turning and walking to Hope.

“So let’s have this out, then,” Hope said, and Blake’s lips curled just slightly in a smile. 

“Have what out? Do you want me to apologize? Well, I’m sorry if I hurt you, or Ryan, but I’m not sorry for what I did.” 

“Of course not,” Hope huffed, but she looked at Blake with new appreciation. “I--you were just doing what you had to, I suppose. But it doesn’t excuse the things you said.” 

“It’s cute that you think I don’t know that,” Blake said, waving one perfectly manicured hand dismissively. “Of course I know that, Hope.” 

It was then Hope realized just how close their faces were. A gust of wind could push them together, and as much as the unpleasant tingling on Hope’s skin made her want to pull away, something else made her want to stay in that moment forever. 

“Thanks for apologizing, I guess,” Hope said.

“That’s it? Thanks for apologizing?” Blake folded her arms and scoffed. 

“I don’t owe you forgiveness, Blake,” Hope said, and the air between them practically hummed. The brunette narrowed her eyes, but didn’t back away, didn’t move at all, and Hope’s stomach tightened as they matched glares. From this close, Hope could see a small smattering of freckles on the tip of Blake’s nose, and the way her nostrils flared just slightly with every breath. 

She could see the green flecks in Blake’s golden eyes, framed by luscious, long lashes that quivered ever so slightly. Whether it was from anger or something else, Hope couldn’t say. Something came over her then, and she grabbed Blake by the back of her head and kissed her. Blake stiffened, caught off guard by it, but eventually relaxed into the kiss, her arms twining around Hope’s neck. The kiss deepened, and when they pulled away, they were both panting for air. 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Blake said, but she didn’t move to disengage. Hope felt the bundle of hair in her hand, felt the lithe body press against hers, and she smiled slowly. 

“Neither was I,” Hope said softly, dropping Blake’s hair and moving to cup her cheek instead. “I didn’t think I was--you know--into girls?” 

“Are you now?” Blake asked, a hopeful look in her eyes. 

“I’m into  _ you.”  _ Hope laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “God, all this time, it wasn’t that I hated you, or anything like that,” Hope said, shaking her head slowly before wrapping her hand around the back of Blake’s head and bringing their lips together again. She felt Blake’s arms drop until they were pulling her closer by her waist, and she couldn’t get enough. 

The taste of Blake’s lips, the scent of her hair, the way her skin felt beneath her fingertips--it was all intoxicating, and Hope couldn’t get enough. Hope didn’t even care if someone happened upon them, no longer cared about her sterling reputation. All she wanted were Blake’s arms around her and those lips to never stop kissing her.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Blake asked softly, in a subdued, almost sultry voice, and Hope pulled away enough to look at her. Blake’s lips, already swollen, were parted slightly, her eyes half lidded, her hair tousled from where Hope had run her fingers through it. Hope couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to leave with Blake. 

“So let’s go.” 

And that’s how Hope found herself standing in a flat in Kensington, with Blake moving like liquid gold in her arms, pressing kisses up and down Hope’s throat until she was burning with desire, burning with emotions she hadn’t known since her time in the villa. There was something sublime in the moment, and yet surreal. 

It was funny to Hope, to loathe someone so violently only to discover she was suddenly one of the most important people in her world. To exchange such bitter unpleasantries for over a year only to find heaven in her sweet embrace. To avoid her desperately only to realize the best sound in the world was a hushed whisper of “Oh, god, Hope,” in dulcet tones. 

Hope, as it turned out, was in the business of forgiveness, especially when it felt so heavenly. 


End file.
